


Out of Routine

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Cribs era, F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted this, but he still feels inexplicably trapped in his perfect life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Routine

There’s a barbeque on a brand new grill and loads of friends-of-friends and people from the label hanging around with expensive alcohol in cheap glasses bought last minute from the first Walmart Chester drove by this morning and all of it is so fake.

This is all for the benefit of the MTV camera crew following Chester and Sam as they drift from room to room showing off their house. Cribs. Brad guesses it’s okay, the whole act, seeing as the viewers can’t smell how new the paint is.

He scurries after Chester as they walk up the stairs and Chester goes “This is our bedroom.”

Brad snorts before he can stop himself but it’s too late and people are staring. Chester looks flustered but manages to force a charming smile. “Well, not our bedroom.”

No. Of course not. How silly of Brad.

He takes the chance to slip away and hide downstairs. It takes a while, but Chester finds him eventually and glances at the spliff hanging from Brad’s fingers disapprovingly for a split second. Brad smiles and takes a hit, leans in as if to kiss Chester’s mouth but blows smoke in his face instead. Steps back, laughing.

“There’s, uh, there’s dead animals being barbequed upstairs. If you’re interested.”

Brad flicks ash into a plant pot at his feet and shrugs. “Can’t. Not kosher.”

“Is weed kosher?”

“It’s a fucking plant. What do you think?”

Chester stares at his feet, scuffs one battered baseball boot across the ground. “Stop it Brad.”

“Stop what? I’m partying. That’s what the camera crew wants to see, right?”

“Wrong. They want to see my friends and my family and my house. Not you getting wasted and being rude.”

Brad laughs. “Rude?”

“Well that’s what you’re fucking being.”

“I’m a guitarist – we’re meant to be arrogant.” Brad smirks as he pats himself down. He pulls a cigarette case from the inside pocket of his jacket and holds out a fresh joint for Chester to take.”

“Yeah,” Chester murmurs, but takes the joint anyway. Looks away when Brad leans in to light it. He takes a long drag and exhales a stream of smoke straight up in the air.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Making sure Joe doesn’t burn our house down. Where’s Elisa?”

“Probably getting fucked somewhere.”

Chester frowns and snatches the joint from his mouth, examining the end. “You’re supposed to care.”

“Yeah, well,” Brad says, “so is she.”

“Why are you still with her, then?” He’s playing with fire. Never did know when to just shut up.

“It’s convenient,” Brad tell him. Like that’s any kind of answer.

“But she’s horrible to you...”

“Well, I’m not exactly a saint either. Besides – the sex isn’t bad.”

Chester shrugs and wraps his lips back around the end of his joint, breathes in until his lung burn. Brad steps in front of him and pulls it away from him, stubbing it out on the wall and wrapping his arms around Chester’s waist.

“You’re better, though.”

It’s easy to make this all into a joke. Ha ha, one spliff and look at the state of us. Chester plays along, wraps his arms around Brad’s shoulders and smiles, “You’re pretty spectacular yourself.”

Brad kisses him softly, so gently it might not have even happened. Whispers, “I’d leave her for you.”

“Brad...” Chester protests weakly.

“It’s okay,” Brad says, stepping away. “It’s okay, I know.”

It’s not okay. And for a second Chester reaches out and cups Brad’s cheek gently, runs his thumb over his cheek bone. Then. Snaps out of it. Smile tensely and says, “We should go mingle.”

“Yeah,” Brad says, nodding with no expression on his face at all. “They’ll be missing me.” He mutters. He turns away and disappears back inside. Upstairs somebody laughs. A door slams. The world stops turning.

Chester takes a deep breath and plasters on a big fake smile, and walks back into the life he trapped himself in.


End file.
